


Cannabis Sativa

by kaya_metanfetaheart



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, Dramma, F/M, Light Horror, Light Smut, Touken, Tousaki, bad english maybe, weird (?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaya_metanfetaheart/pseuds/kaya_metanfetaheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touka did not notice it, but all of that was installed in her brain, intoxicating it, doing it an addict, slowly, little by little. Like a drug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cannabis Sativa

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Cannabis Sativa](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/189766) by Silly Kitten (me). 



> Notes: Sinning & chill. Sinning & crying. Chill & crying. I think I haven't understand AO3 yet, and like I said english isn't my first language (it's 2.37 a.m too), so it's possible there're some errors, please let me know!
> 
> Disclairmer: The characters and everything (also me) belongs to Sui Ishida.

“ _This is wrong,_ ”

Even though it was _her_ who was letting those hands touched her.

“ _it is a big mistake.”_

And it was _her_ skin that was bristling sensitively, almost needy _–hungry–_ , at its contact. Like if each cell of her epithelium sent a message to his very soul that she finally, _finally,_ could free herself, _could_ –stop of pretending, realize that all those years lonely just was part of a hallucination– lost her sense.

 _But it wasn’t like that_ , reality was another.  
All those years lonely were just as cruel as real, and if she wanted to keep with the damned plan, or at least her life, she would not stop of pretending.   
But then, _then_ , it was that smell. _Like an aroma, or… a sweet poison, or… something-_ she couldn’t explain _._ And it was hers lips, the ones that weren’t resisting but almost giving itself at that mouth, like if it were being attracted but a magnetic energy she couldn’t manage. It was her –her alter ego,not-herself– that was sinking her nails in his nape, in his back, in his waist; _paws clipping its prey;_ not letting him go anymore.

.

Touka could not avoid, not-resist, but be trapped by his _soft-_ addiction. _Deeply in herself there was one –her altergo– that just didn’t want to resist –any-mo-re–.  
_ And it was in that moment that she remembered what she was –, what they were, what they should(could) never have (be)en.–

He, She, the world where they’d been living, everything, everyone…  
_“Horrible.”_

_So, why this was feeling so good?_

If his cloudy-moon eyes should be like two big and awful scars, with a printed “stay away”.

.

 _Although_ when she saw, the broken-hollow on the left side almost escaped from her breastbone.

(It was him. Yes, it was. Yes, he came back.)  
His bitter-acid coffee essence had been impregnated and spread in the air. Imitating a certain kind of living-smoke. That her lungs couldn’t resist breathe.  
It was distinct, tangible, so much that the deadly butterflies throbbing hungrily in her belly and her forked tongue gloated her lips slowly.

And yet, she knew it, he wasn´t _him_.  (“ _Liar Kaneki Ken”)_

 _No_ , because he wore a white coat that signed that declaration of enmity. _No,_ because there was a not-similar figure that perfectly fits in _his_ structure –like a unpainted watercolor portrait. _No,_ because his finger tips took in a different way the cup of coffee and… _No,_ because he was _looking_ her, in a different way, a way that sense shivers right under her belly.

_…  
“Ah... I-I’m sorry” his voice sounding in a color ranges. Although keeping his color “it is truly delicious”, he wasn’t him._

_Touka didn’t know if his eyes hurt her more than her–his– own smile._

_“I appreciate it a lot” maybe both pains were just too much.  
…_

That night was hard for breathing because the knot of not-crying-tears was threatening with running away from her dries eyelashes. And she had to forcing herself to spit out “ _I wish you don’t come back. Don’t come back anymore”_

 _(“Please)_  
  
((come back again.”))

.

One day passed, two days, seven, two weeks, one month… He did not come back.   
She wanted to say that she was happy, that she didn’t need him, that it was better if he was far away from her –that it was better to her, to everyone, even _him_ –, that her soul was complete with the know that he was alive, amnesic, but as idiot as always. _She wanted- she really wanted._ But her heart was a muscle too much striated, broken, empty, to felt that kind of empathy.

…  
“ _When you are playing to getting well with the humans and you forgot you are a monster, are you truly happy?”  
…_

– _No_. –

So when he entered by that door, and the essence was revealing his presence before he could put a feet in the floor. In the same way, her existence gave turned another time, the deadly butterflies twisted and her forked tongue traced her lips.

 _And_ she put her best mask of understanding, and her soul whispered “ _You should not come back”_. Her heart whispered it too –but it was lying–.  
He was flipping through the bookshelf, full of books that had been purchased by her, books that had been read by him –sometime, in another life–.

And she had tried to refuse, biting her lips and waiting. But she just couldn’t, she just couldn’t wait for anymore and then… She talked to him, and so he did that grin again, almost like a silhouette of smile, almost as if his moons shined, just almost. And all she could do was kept talking to him, about knowing trivial things: question she already knew the answer, known answers that still hurt.

 All she that wanted was listen his voice, smell that essence, felt that sensation that only him caused in her. –Touka did not notice it, but all of that was installed in her brain, intoxicating it, doing it an addict, slowly, little by little. Like a drug. –

.

So his visits started to be more often.

 _And…  
_ at night the whisper of her soul was being reduced to only a buzz.   
_And…_  
 in the day her heart was beating stronger and infecting her a bit more.

Then, it was a routine catching his essence with anticipation; her body stopped obeying to her mind, like a switch being turned off… or turned on –she wasn’t sure. All that she knew was a part of her was being frozen, and -the-other part of her was being warmed–. And when the unpainted structure of his was showing, she breathed in all that essence still her lungs were full of it. In that way his fragrance made a better effect, poisoning every inch of her anatomy.

 _…_  
He made a gesture whit his hand.   
She felt the urge to drop everything she was doing and run by his side. But – luckily– she was able to manage herself and do her job correctly and faster than she could. Scolding to herself. Caring that Yomo didn’t notice anything, hurrying her step.

_“Y-yes?”_

_He gave her a smile –so, so improper–._

_“May we have the bill?” serene voice. She nodded. Eyes fixed in her, almost expectative._

_“W-would you like something else?” she asked crumpling the notebook._

_“Yes. Please. May I have your phone and your name?” He said. hesaidithesaidithesaiit._

_And the air with his essence escaped from her lungs. Instead, something ascended since the bottom of her navel – and it was burning her– to the point of making her cheeks burn as much as the ears of his green-haired subordinate. However he laughed._

_She putted the bill in the table violently  
and running away from there, to the kitchen, resting her back in the door, trying to calm down her insistent heartbeat._

_And this time, her soul whished really loud_ — _please don’t come back anymore_ — _._

_She could hear his subordinate complaining at him._

_((Her rotten-striated heart had written_ — _Yomo Touka_ — _and next her phone’s number.)) ”  
…_

But it passed again. –He turned back.–

 _…  
__—Haise Sasaki_ — _He had written in the paper’s bill. She tried to ignored but —really sorry for the other time_ — a _nd next there was a rabbit painted._  
…

Touka decided to let herself go –not literally but metaphorically–. She would stop to note the way he was reading the books, she would not fix the rebel hair tress when he was staring at her with those eyes, she would even forget his typical order _–“A macchiato express with double foam, please”–._ She would do it. Of course she could –not– do it. Even if her heart would stretch vicious and piercing against her chest, she would not breathe with _that_ craving his essence.

However, her heart was uncontrollably wayward, infected and it _did not_ want to resist to such abstinence.

It was _his_ fault, Haise’s, somehow he had managed to hunt the rabbit, to find her every time she had tried to escape from him, to catch her every– _fucking_ –time she had tried to hide herself.   
She just couldn’t understand what was in him, how could he induce such kind of behavior in her  
(if He wasn’t Kaneki. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. but–).   
Finally it was her –, her fault, – the one who was looking for him. _his essence. his order– the voice. his damned cloudy-moon eyes staring at her._

Whenever more and more.

 _More_ dangerously near –at her. _More_ poisoned was being her heart. _More_ addicted to his essence she was becoming  
_… More_ difference there was between He and Kaneki.

(, _ouch.)_

So many differences that sometimes Touka couldn’t avoid to feel loaded, that sometimes –, just sometimes, –she wanted to run away from him.   
She really wanted to run away from everything –everyone– of him–them–.   
She just wanted… (Kaneki, Kaneki Ken  
not _him_ )

And – _oh, what a horrible thing had became–_ her heart _–for just_ – wished –such terrible things–. As long as she couldn’t avoid his cloudy-moon eyes, his unpainted and disjointed smile, his amnesic mask. She disavowed that white coat, the smell of his hands –like operating room, cage and death–, and his –stupids– superiors _(Arima-san, Akira-san…_ – _murderers, disgusting, beasts. Doves–. )_ and the form of talking with _admiration_ about them   
– _“But don’t you now? They’re using you. You know it, you fucking know it” –_  
. But she _hated,_ she really hated, that instead of everything he seemed to be fine whit that. She just hated the fact that he just didn’t care about his old memories; she hated that he didn’t remembered her, nor a little bit.

_She hated him so, so much._

 In that moment, _H_ … _he_ dared to use those hands, those arms to hunt her, using his deadly weapon – _the essence–_ against her. And Touka couldn’t –didn’t want to– do anything but think it was just unfair.

Because  
, each inch of her skin was yelling “ _It’s him, yes, it’s him”._  
, that sensation impinged and made her weak, instinctive –like a time-travel to the old Touka–.  
And she couldn’t stop herself, she just wanted him, she just wanted to return.

To his sour kisses, so acid that she was being burnt, so bitter that her veins were being dried. But she had the impression of in a not so far place, _maybe for here  
… _ When he lifted her up to a table where got more accessibility to her mouth.  
_or for ther  
… _ When the both pairs of hands were desperately and messily swimming under the wear, across their mask.  
in some place, it had to be sweet. _Like Kaneki’s meat._

And it wasn’t there, maybe it was in other place  
_…_ Maybe if she unbuttoned that awful white coat, that damned tie, that ridiculous shirt. If her dirty-bare hands traced his chiseled torso, trying to found old scars… She just found new ones.

His operating room hands stripped of everything –the waitress uniform, the high-shoes, the underwear, the sanity. Did it matter? No, it didn’t–, it was just her dirty-bare skin. _And his._ Both of them naked. In parts cold, in parts warm, in parts known, in parts not so well.   

  _But_ he wasn’t there neither, it didn’t matter what near they where or how much they touched each other. He wasn’t there.

In that instant was when their eyes met, moon and sun, an eclipse, blinding everything. _Behind his eyes everything was misting._

And between the sounds she couldn’t contain, his hackly paintings he let escape, the– _his_ – essence was penetrating more and more deep. _What it was behind that cloudy-eyes?_

_(A demon)_

Touka clearly felt it. Starting since the deep tip under her belly and then ferociously expanding in the rest of her, letting a way of a shudder trail.

_There, right there._

She arched her back, feeling a glace-dark finger tracing a path since her navel, and belly, and her gap between the rib cage, her breastbone, her neck, her chin, and sinking in her mouth.

_(There it was him)_

_._

**Author's Note:**

> Miu!~


End file.
